19 Battalion and Armoured Regiment

CHAPTER 10 — Airborne Invasion

CHAPTER 10
Airborne Invasion

Without danger, danger cannot be surmounted

—Publius Syrus

By 16 May enemy preparations for the invasion of Crete
were known to be so far advanced that landings were
expected almost hourly. General Freyberg, calling together
his officers and NCOs, set the facts frankly before them. An
attack was imminent; parachute landings, airborne landings,
and an attempt from the sea could be expected. An aerial
blitz even greater than that experienced in Greece would
be used against us. Equipment and defensive supplies of all
sorts were short and there was little hope of improving the
position before the invasion took place. It would need an
all-out effort by each individual if the enemy was to be
beaten off.

Preparations in our defended areas were as far forward as
limitations in supplies and equipment would permit. Now
began a waiting game. Forecasts, official and unofficial,
fixed the zero hour many times over the next four days,
and COs of units were supplied with a translated copy of
a captured German order covering the Corinth landing.
This gave useful information on enemy methods. Meanwhile the air raids continued on the ports and dive-bombers
harassed transport or troops caught in the open. All
movement was made with increased vigilance, and a rumour
that enemy fifth columnists wearing Allied uniforms had
already been landed on the island added to the tension.

With Headquarters Company abandoning its specialist
role, 19 Battalion could now muster four fighting companies.
Supporting arms had moved into operational areas and the
battalion had in support F Troop of 5 NZ Field Regiment.
The gunners, whose weapons were of ancient Italian vintage,
set up in the battalion area. A platoon from 27 (Machine
Gun) Battalion was added to the battalion strength but was
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later withdrawn, leaving the 19th shortly before the attack
took place.

Equipment was down to a fraction of full war scale.
Transport for tactical and administrative use totalled two
trucks and three Bren carriers. The unit had but two
3-inch mortars and bombs for them were strictly rationed.
There were no tools except a small pool of picks and shovels
which had to be shared by the whole battalion. Small-arms
ammunition was plentiful; armour-piercing and incendiary
rounds, however, were unobtainable. Some 120 Greek
troops attached just before the battle were armed with Steier
pattern rifles, dated 1898, and had but three rounds apiece.

This was a picture repeated in all the New Zealand units
on the island. Morale was high but supplies of war equipment were precariously low. Every man knew that when
the attack came his marksmanship would be a factor in
deciding the fate of the battle. Section leaders set about
the preparation of range cards upon which almost every
object within rifle and LMG range was accurately taped.
There was some anxiety about the ability of our defences,
dug in soft ground, to withstand the preliminary air
bombing, but the arrival of airborne troops was awaited
with confidence. The defenders had every faith in their
ability to deal with them.

The New Zealand sector in Crete comprised two main
areas: 5 Brigade was responsible for the defence of Maleme
airfield, while 4 Brigade was concentrated between Suda and
Galatas. Brigadier Inglis1 assumed command of the latter
brigade on 17 May, its former commander, Brigadier
Puttick, being appointed commander of the New Zealand
Division in Crete. Colonel Kippenberger commanded 10
Brigade, a composite formation comprising 20 Battalion, two
Greek battalions, and a composite battalion consisting of
ASC and Artillery personnel who, owing to lack of equip-
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ment, could not function in their normal roles. A
detachment of the Divisional Cavalry operating as infantry
completed the establishment of this brigade, which was
responsible for the defence of the Galatas area. Fourth
Brigade had a reserve role.

The 19th Battalion, as a reserve battalion to 4 Brigade,
had its headquarters sited in the olive groves about 300
yards south of Karatsos. The 18th Battalion, within whose
area Brigade Headquarters was set up, occupied a position
astride the Canea-Maleme road about a mile to the north-east, while the Composite Battalion from 10 Brigade lay in
an arc north-west to south of Galatas, about a mile and a
quarter away. In and around the village were Greek units
and the Divisional Cavalry detachment was north of
Alikianou.

Communications between and within units was difficult,
for visibility was limited, the whole area being thickly
covered with olive trees, vineyards, stone walls and houses.
While not unduly difficult, the country was hilly and in
some spots steep. Roads and tracks intersecting and criss-crossing patterned the whole place. A phone line to
4 Brigade Headquarters, with another to the gun site of a
Royal Artillery troop of 3.7 howitzers (under command)
sited just outside the battalion area, were the only line
communications the slender resources of Divisional Signals
could allow the 19th. Message traffic all had to be handled
by runner or liaison officer—a factor which limited effective
control and which weighed heavily once the attack commenced.

The battalion area sloped generally towards the south and
west, covering the high ground overlooking the valley road
to Suda. Karatsos in the north and Galatas in the north-west were each on an eminence, and in the valley between
them Taranaki Company provided a link with the defended
area on the right. Headquarters Company positions were
closest to those of 20 Battalion, whose FDLS were 500 yards
from the 19th’s at their nearest point on the left flank.

sectors with the role of preventing the seizure of the aerodromes and ports in their areas. Once attack came, the
reinforcement of any sector would be extremely difficult, for
with no transport and no air cover, movement of troops
would be attended by great danger and supply problems
intensified. As in the New Zealand sector, the garrisons
elsewhere were weak in numbers, organisation and equipment. The whole force on the island, including Greeks,
totalled some 42,000 and was made up as follows: the
MNBDO and one British infantry brigade; the troops
evacuated from Greece, now organised into four improvised
British battalions, eight weak Australian battalions and
eight New Zealand battalions, all of which were below
strength; eleven badly equipped, ill-fed, and poorly trained
Greek battalions, plus several thousand Greek stragglers.
Many of the fighting units were composed of troops who
were inexperienced in infantry work and tactics. Also on
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the island and also to be fed were a thousand unarmed
Cypriot and Palestinian pioneers, 15,000 Italian prisoners
of war, and a population of 400,000.

Food supply was a problem, 600 to 700 tons a day being
necessary to supplement the island’s slender resources.
Warships of thirty knots and over were the only ships which
stood a reasonable chance of survival against the marauding
Luftwaffe. The total cargo one of these ships could land in
any one night was 80 tons.

The lot of the small RAF garrison on Crete, always
unenviable, had by now become clearly untenable. Our
small force of Hurricanes and Gladiators, despite heroic
performances, was gradually being eliminated.

However, in the face of all these difficulties, General
Freyberg, in obedience to higher authority, organised the
defence of Crete in a manner which, if limited by material
and the time available, was to present a serious and costly
problem for the attacking German forces.

The days passed, 16th, 17th, 18th and 19th, but still the
promised attack failed to materialise. The 20th dawned
with the usual bombing of airfields and ports, but by now
these were routine occurrences and in the battalion position
an early morning air-raid alarm acted merely as a reveille
call. In platoon areas breakfast began to the noise of continuous bombing from the direction of 5 Brigade’s sector
and more than usual air activity in all quarters.

Hawke’s Bay Company was the first in the battalion to
see the arrival of the air armada, for after a short period
of ground strafing across Galatas, a large flight of Ju52s and
gliders flew low over its front travelling east. Breakfast
forgotten, there was a mad scramble for action positions.
Simultaneously parachutists began to drop. The attack had
come.

Gliders of monstrous proportions swooped low, silent and
uncanny. The escorting fighters held their fire as the first
parachutists floated down, then the sharp crackle of rifle fire
from the ground announced the opening of the battle.

The first enemy began to drop into the battalion area at
ten minutes past eight. From the open hatches of the
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Junkers troop-carriers they jumped at the rate of about one
per plane per second, plummeted down for perhaps fifty
feet, then puppet-like hung suspended beneath huge green
umbrellas. For sheer uncanny horror those first few minutes
rivalled the worst Wellsian fantasy. Bombing and machine-gunning had ceased and comparative quiet reigned. The
air was full of planes and floating figures. Gliders and
troop-carriers flew so low and so slowly that they looked
like monstrous sharks swimming lazily among a school of
jellyfish. Those first few seconds in the Battle for Crete
must remain seared deeply into the memories of those who
survived.

The first rifle fire galvanised every man into action; the
awe-inspiring spectacle above was now reduced to terms of
targets and the shooting was good. The paratroops jumped
at heights varying between 200 and 500 feet; a few parachutes did not open, but the rest in their downward journey
looked almost leisurely. Silhouetted against the sky, their
leg and arm movements could be clearly seen. They stopped
abruptly when a man was struck, and it is safe to say that
a large percentage of those who landed in the unit’s area
were dead when they reached the ground. One falling
close to Battalion Headquarters had been hit no fewer than
nineteen times. Clearly the 19th’s presence had been
unsuspected, and the casualties the enemy suffered by
dropping troops in this area must have been a serious check
to his plans.

The excitement and confusion of the first few minutes
gave place to exhilaration as the realisation dawned that
we were having the best of the battle. Then, as the enemy
in their immediate vicinity were disposed of, a spontaneous
move by all sections to go out after those dropping out of
range had to be firmly checked. General forays were discouraged, for should the Germans have gained possession
of the dug-in positions we would have been left on the
outside looking in. The high ground on which the 19th
was situated was vital to the defence of the sector. Companies
disposed of all enemy in sight, then organised patrols were
sent out to deal with dead ground and areas out of range.

By 10 a.m. reports to Battalion indicated that the unit
lines were clear of enemy. Dead paratroops lay dotted all
over the position: some, still in their harness, hung
grotesquely from the olive trees; others had fallen right on
top of section posts. Between a hundred and a hundred
and fifty had dropped into Headquarters Company’s area;
the balance landed in front of Wellington and Hawke’s Bay
Companies, behind Wellington and Taranaki Companies,
and in and about Karatsos. The great majority, however,
had been dropped out of range on the other side of the
Canea-Prison road; these were known to be forming up
unmolested ready to attack. In the battalion area, however,
there was much to do. Our own casualties were attended
to; these included the genial and popular commander of
Headquarters Company, Captain Chas Webster, who was
killed while leading a patrol against parachutists established
on the ground in front of his company position. The enemy
prisoners and wounded were collected, the dead searched,
and containers of equipment—indicated by their white
parachutes—were salvaged and the contents added to the
war stores of the unit.

Snipers now began to harass troops moving in the area
but our boys, too, were still busy picking off unwary paratroops. Major Williamson, the battalion second-in-command,
accounted for one particularly troublesome sharpshooter
who had established himself in an olive tree, and whose
automatic rifle had already been responsible for the death
of more than one of our men. The tactical position was
obscure. Communications were out, the phone lines to
Brigade and to the 3.7 howitzer troop had been cut during
the strafing before the attack, and from outside the area
there was no news of what had taken place or how the troops
on the flanks were faring. The 19th had taken some
prisoners and captured a number of important enemy
documents. All ranks were busy testing enemy equipment
before putting it into use, and the capture of his weapons
had added considerably to the unit’s fire power. Particularly
useful were the large number of light and medium machine
guns and the mortars, and for both these weapons an ample
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supply of ammunition had been dropped. Wireless sets,
medical equipment, machine pistols, sniper’s rifles, and even
a motor-cycle and sidechair were gathered in. In the midst
of all this excitement Jimmy Meller,2 the imperturbable
corporal cook at Battalion Headquarters, announced and
served a hot breakfast.

By now enemy elements out in front towards the prison
were engaging the battalion with mortar and machine-gun fire. The 3-inch mortars under Lt Thodey3 did grand
work and located and destroyed many of the enemy weapons.
Sergeant Clark,4 with the detachment sited close to Battalion
Headquarters, did an excellent job the whole time the unit
was at Karatsos. Our men also used the Hun’s own mortars
against him, but though these proved to have a greater range
than our own, they were not nearly as accurate and required
resetting after every round.

The artillery, F Troop of 28 Battery under Major
Duigan,5 had done well. Their gun position was in the
thick of the first parachute landing. The gunners made
good use of the single rifle they had and quickly supplemented their small arms with enemy equipment. After the
landing they became ‘infantillery’ and soon cleared their
own and neighbouring territory of lurking paratroops.
Armed only with a large knife one of their number, Lance-Bombardier Johnston,6 stalked, slightly wounded, and
captured a paratrooper single-handed. The guns went into
action over open sights against enemy concentrations across
the valley and, despite all difficulties, gave valuable support
to the battalion and other units in the Galatas area until
the night of the 25th, when the position was evacuated.

Captured documents showed that two enemy battalions
had been landed on the ground towards the prison and it
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was little wonder that that area proved troublesome.
Throughout the day resistance steadily increased. It was
clear that the enemy was well established out in front.

All troop-carrying gliders had so far passed overhead
towards the coast, but it was feared that landings might later
take place on the flat ground in the prison area, and a close
watch was kept. About 11 a.m. a further small detachment
of paratroops was landed and many containers intended for
them fell in and close to the battalion positions. For the
rest of the day Wellington and Hawke’s Bay Companies,
keeping the containers under observation, took a steady toll
of Germans as they tried to extract equipment from them.

An enemy threat developing towards Karatsos was quickly
dealt with by a fighting patrol from Wellington and
Taranaki Companies, which went out about midday and
accounted for some twenty Germans. During the afternoon
air and ground activity was considerably reduced; the enemy
was getting his second wind and preparing for an attack.

News began to trickle through from the other areas, and
from the twenty survivors who came back into our lines it
was learned that the 3.7 howitzer troop, sited on the flat
ground half a mile south of the battalion FDLs across the
valley road, had been overwhelmed. One gun had been
captured intact. The section from 8 Platoon Wellington
Company which had been detailed for protective duties had
suffered heavy casualties. The attack had started while the
men were still in the mess queue drawing their breakfast
rations. A troop-carrier flying low overhead, spilling its
paratroops as it came, was their first indication that the
invasion had started. Dropping their mess gear, every man
went into action immediately. Before long enemy on the
ground began returning their fire and, with one of its
members killed, the section was forced off the open ground
round the gun position and continued the fight from a ditch
which ran along the margin of the clearing.

As the weight of enemy numbers increased the position
became untenable, and Corporal George Cooke was mortally
wounded while withdrawing his men. They attempted to
rejoin the artillery personnel who had taken cover on the
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opposite side of the clearing, and two men were lost on the
way. It soon became evident that the enemy were closing
in and the survivors decided to try to get back inside the
battalion positions. Before they withdrew, however, two
men went out in an attempt to locate the two who had been
missed when they left the position in the ditch. One of
these failed to return, and the other, the section’s Bren-gunner, finding no sign of his missing comrades, returned
when his shouts had brought him under heavy enemy fire.
Four survivors got back to the battalion by way of a stream,
crawling in the water and crouching beneath the banks until
familiar landmarks were sighted just in front of Headquarters Company’s lines. Their report disclosed a serious
position, for the howitzer now in enemy hands could be
used effectively against the whole sector. Given another
hour before the attack began, the rest of 8 Platoon would
have been in position covering the artillery area. However,
the request for protection from the troop commander had
come too late and the delay had proved costly.

On receipt of this information 4 Brigade Headquarters
ordered an attack by 18 Battalion westwards along the line
of the road Canea-Aghya, with the object of recapturing the
guns. This attack, carried out by one company with two
Bren carriers in support, ran into heavy opposition, which
later proved to be an enemy attack on the point of being
staged against the 19th positions. The 18th Battalion’s
action, though unsuccessful in its primary object, prevented
the enemy operation against the 19th developing.

Some 300 survivors from 6 NZ Field Ambulance and
7 British General Hospital were released by a patrol from
Taranaki Company, and fed up, yet famished, came into
the battalion area about 5 p.m. They had been captured
shortly after the attack started. Some 19 Battalion men
who were patients gave the following account of what
happened:

The air blitz started just as the 6 Field Ambulance
patients were finishing breakfast. Slit-trench accommodation
was inadequate and staff and patients were forced to seek
the slender protection of the olive trees. The foliage hid
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them from the strafing planes, but the bullets tore through
the leaves and whipped up spurts of dust all over the
ambulance area. Corporal Dick Burge7 of Wellington
Company, who had been under treatment for three days,
was packed up and ready to go back to the battalion when
the attack came. He was one of those who found no room
in the ‘slitties’ and his impressions of the now legendary
episode are well worth recording. Held a prisoner from
the time the ambulance was captured, he eventually
returned to the 19th lines when their captors were killed
or had cleared out and left their prisoners.

Two paratroop patrols, who must have landed well out
of the hospital area, constituted the attacking party. They
approached from opposite sides of the clearing, and as they
rounded up the patients they were panting with exertion
as if after a long run. Tommy guns effectively deterred
those who harboured any hopes of making a break for it
while the rounding up was in progress. The Germans knew
enough English to make themselves understood and soon
had both patients and staff herded together into a compact
group. No movement was permitted, and their readiness to
aim their weapons at any man who tried to change position
convinced everyone that it would be unwise to take liberties.

Shortly after the capture of 6 Field Ambulance was
complete, the patients from 7 General Hospital were
shepherded into the same area. Many were barefoot, some
wore pyjamas only; few were fully dressed for many were
lying cases. The attackers in their anxiety to get the
prisoners away had allowed them no time to dress, but
herded every man capable of standing on his feet into a
column, which was marched away under guard. A now-armed German airman, who had himself been a patient in
the hospital since his plane was shot down a few days before,
proved the most objectionable of the whole enemy party.

Once all the prisoners had been gathered into a single
group, a paratroop officer addressed them in English. He
told them that they were now ‘prisoners of the German
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Army’ which was master of Crete, that they must obey
orders, and provided they did this would be well treated.
He told them to take off their steel helmets, as by wearing
these the prisoners might be taken for British fighting troops
and the Luftwaffe, which was cleaning up the remnants of
the defending army, would be liable to fire on them. He
said that they would shortly be moved to the prison area
where the headquarters of his particular group was being
set up. The harangue concluded, he hurried off, taking
some of his men with him.

The group of prisoners had swelled to about three
hundred. There were perhaps twenty guards, and it was
natural that there should be some talk of sneaking off. Two
machine guns were now set up to cover the area, so plans
for escaping were abandoned and all settled down to wait,
wondering what the next move would be. Firing could be
heard on all sides, and overhead planes could be seen flying
back towards the sea. The morning wore on and it became
obvious that enemy plans were not working out. The guards
were getting anxious and some shooting was taking place
quite close to the clearing. New Zealand patrols seemed to
be working towards the area.

About midday, after a conference, the guards got busy,
rounded up their prisoners into column, and set off south
through the olive groves. As the column crossed the road
a British tank appeared. The commander, sticking his head
out of the turret to talk to the party, was potted at by the
guards and popped back smartly. The tank rumbled off,
and the straggling column, with hopes dashed, plodded
protestingly on, urged by the threatening weapons of the
now somewhat shaken guards. More trouble was in store
for the Germans, however, for a hidden Bren-gunner firing
parallel with the line of march caused confusion to friend
and foe alike. The guards, now thoroughly rattled, turned
the party eastwards. Unfortunately the head of the column
crossed the line of fire and the next burst wounded several
of our men, including Private Malcolm Highet,8 who was
marching side by side with Corporal Burge.

In another clearing, set on a south slope, the party were
compactly grouped and instructed to sit down. The sick
men were exhausted and everyone was hot and thirsty. Each
man wondered what had happened to his own unit area and
how his comrades had fared in the attack. It was obvious
that the Germans had not had everything their own way.
There was still some sporadic firing, but from the slope
nothing but olive groves could be seen. The guards, now
reduced to half a dozen, were uneasy but kept alert against
any signs of a break. Placing themselves in handy positions,
they showed plainly that they still meant business.

The day wore wearily on, then in the late afternoon a
patrol from 18 Platoon Taranaki Company passed close to
the area, and two men managed to creep up unobserved
and get into a fire position covering the group with a Bren
gun. Their presence caused consternation amongst the
guards but the prisoners were naturally elated. For a long
time the position was stalemate. The Germans, careful to
keep under cover, tried to shift them by fire, and the Bren-gunner, though urged to do so by our men, was loath to
reply because of the possibility of hitting some of the
prisoners. The prisoners themselves dared not move, for
they were still covered by the guards.

At last, leaving the Bren-gunner in position, the second
man went off for assistance. While he was away one of the
Germans shifted position and the Bren immediately opened
up. Unfortunately the burst lifted and caught a group of
our medical orderlies, killing some and wounding others.
In the confusion which followed, the Germans tried to make
off. Arriving on the scene, a patrol from 18 and 16 Platoons
Taranaki Company killed several guards then guided the
erstwhile prisoners to the battalion area. It was now 5 p.m.;
they had been in enemy hands for over eight hours.

News from other sectors was almost nil, but it was evident
that 5 Brigade was having a tough time. Aircraft activity
and the sound of firing from the direction of Maleme was
continuous, and it was obvious that the attackers were
making an all-out effort to capture the airfield.

The Aghya area from which 6 Greek Regiment evaporated
soon after the attack opened was also causing Headquarters
some concern, for it was feared that a landing strip was
being made on the flat land to the west of the prison. At
6.30 p.m. the Brigade Major, Major G. P. Sanders,9 arrived
at Battalion Headquarters with orders for an attack from
the west of Galatas to upset the supposed work of the enemy.
While arrangements were being discussed, dive-bombers
appeared and blitzed the battalion area, but by now the
enemy air-to-ground technique was obvious and our troops
confused the aircraft by firing Very light signals. Observation
during the day had shown that a white light fired from the
ground indicated to the plane the locations of German
troops, while a red light fired obliquely showed the direction
of our positions and called for offensive action. Later the
paratroops used other signals, but by firing many Very lights
simultaneously with theirs it was found that the blitzing
lost its intensity owing to the pilots’ uncertainty.

Of that first day there have been many impressions
recorded. Those of Corporal Jeff Spence,10 of No. 1 Platoon
Headquarters Company, though written many years after,
are still vivid. His experiences were similar to those of
many other men of the unit, for though the 19th hit hard
it lost heavily, and for many good soldiers the fighting ended
that first fateful day of the airborne attack on Crete.

I can never think of Crete with any degree of clarity or
cohesion. Things moved too fast for nicely marshalled
impressions to form. I can remember standing with my section
on the valley road from Suda just before 8 o’clock that bright,
sunny morning of May 20. I can remember how the ground
and the air shook under the terrific bombardment that Suda
Bay and Canea were taking.

I can remember Scotty Walker muttering, ‘It’s all according
to Hoyle, brother—they said the invasion would come after an
all-in pasting of strategic points.’ Then they WERE going to try
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it on. We scaled up the hill towards our sketchy platoon positions. Quite clearly I can remember stepping over a huge,
unflurried ant trail. I had spent hours watching it. But not
this morning.

I can remember Rolly Bosworth’s raucous shout, ‘Look up
the valley!’ I can remember the thrill of fear that tingled right
down to my boots as I saw for the first time that black swarm
of 52’s in neat arrowheads of three, thundering towards us 300ft
above.

I think we all felt it; we all struggled and sweated up the
steep grade spurred on by the fear of men who are left to meet
something overwhelming by themselves, without the odd
comfort and strength of others.

I can remember our section cook, Phil Padbury, his blue eyes
glued up the valley, mumbling something about burgoo and
sausages. I can remember fixing my bayonet and then unfixing
it again; I can remember firing wildly at the calm, roaring
shadow of a 52 right overhead—and cursing Scotty for doing
the same thing and wasting ammunition.

I can remember a poor Jerry floating down right above us,
his body kicking and writhing in its harness under the impact
of a hundred bullets; I can remember the thud as he hit the
deck and the soft swoosh as his parachute settled over him; I
can remember our sergeant, Denny Lindsey—‘Denny the
Dreamer’—his face white and eyes very wide and staring as he
crawled towards us to see if we were all right; I can remember
shouting at him over the din that we were not—that we should
retire a hundred yards to the cover of the trees; he nodded and
crawled away.

I can remember Whit Porter, suddenly, incongruously called
by nature at this of all times; even then we laughed at his
modesty as he crawled under the dead German’s parachute. I
can remember crawling down to another dead Hun nearby to
get his Luger and hand grenades. I got them—and a Leica
camera as well. I can remember debating with the others
whether you pulled or pushed the little coloured knobs on the
grenades to make them go off. I still don’t know.

About one we ate Padbury’s cold porridge and sausages; I
can remember lighting a pipe—my first smoke of the day; I can
remember the first wonderful draught of smoke.

It gave me away. I felt the bullet explode in my leg, but
there was no pain. Tom Foley dragged me up the open ground
to the R.A.P., wished me luck, and skeetered back.

In five minutes he was back at the R.A.P. with a shattered
shoulder. Butch was dead, Gordon was dying with a bullet in
his stomach. Four others were wounded—all from our platoon.
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We were signallers, incidentally, but we hadn’t seen a field
telephone since evacuated from Greece.

After that there is only a morphia-dimmed picture of stretcher
bearers and interminable olive groves and whistling Heinkels;
of a bombed-out, gutted hospital; of caves and smells and death
and Germans and capture.11

On the evening of 20 May the battalion received the
following orders from 4 Brigade Headquarters for the attack
on the prison area:

1.

Enemy are preparing what appears to be a landing
ground 1000 yards to the west of the Prison 0553.

After clearing the landing ground 19 Bn with under
comd 1 tp 3 Hussars will take up a defensive posn
covering the landing ground but with bulk of forces
North of rd Khania-Aghya 0352.

Time of signature 6.20 p.m.

There were many difficulties and objections to be surmounted before this attack could be staged. It was already
evening and there were a bare two hours of light left. Enemy
aircraft were still troublesome and all our movements during
daylight would be watched. There was a long move to
make before the objective could be approached squarely.
As the return of the attacking force was not envisaged,
arrangements for water, rations, and ammunition would
have to be made. At daylight the force would no doubt
find themselves in an exposed position subjected to severe
air attack, and they had no tools to dig in with. The
thinning out of the battalion positions would leave a very
vulnerable flank in the Galatas dispositions.

Taking all the above factors into consideration it was
decided to attack with two companies only, and Wellington
Company (Captain Clive Pleasants) and Taranaki Company
(Captain Doug McLauchlan12) made ready and moved out
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from a start line in front of Hawke’s Bay Company’s position
at 7.30 p.m. The three tanks under Captain Roy Farran
proceeded along the road and picked up the infantry at
Galatas, having been twice mortared on the way. The
attacking force now continued together for 1000 yards
beyond the village and wheeled south at a point approximately one and a half miles from the battalion area.

Taranaki Company, on the left, passed through 4 Field
Regiment’s lines and ran into opposition right away. After
a troublesome engagement in which the company sustained
some casualties, including Lieutenant Swinburn,13 who was
wounded, two enemy mortars and crews and three LMG
positions were destroyed. In swinging in to join the fight
Wellington Company lost contact with one of its platoons—No. 9. When at last the firing died down it was dark, and
at 10 p.m. Captain Pleasants, who was in command of the
force, ordered a halt and the three tanks and the two companies laagered for the night. Arrangements were made to
continue the attack at first light next morning. The force
posted sentries and lay up in the olive groves approximately
1400 yards from the prison. Of No. 9 Platoon there was
no sign, and all efforts to locate it failed.

Back in the battalion area the two remaining companies
thinned out and with some Greeks manned the positions
vacated by Wellington and Taranaki Companies. While
this reorganisation of forces was in progress word came from
Divisional Headquarters that the 19th would come under
command of 10 Brigade forthwith. About 9 p.m. Colonel
Kippenberger, the Brigade Commander, called at Battalion
Headquarters to discuss the attack then in progress.

It was unfortunate that the orders for the change of
command had not arrived earlier, for 10 Brigade, through
whose area the two companies had advanced, could have
given much assistance. Now, however, night had fallen,
the attackers had passed out of the defended area, and the
forward commander had no means of keeping in touch with
the situation. Kippenberger then decided to cancel the
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operation and patrols were sent out to try to locate the
force, but it was not until first light next morning that
contact was made. The companies were then already moving
forward towards their objective, but on receipt of orders
from 10 Brigade the attack was called off and they moved
back to the battalion area without encountering any further
opposition. At 9 a.m. their original positions were
reoccupied, but 9 Platoon was still ‘out in the blue’ and
no report had been received of its whereabouts.

It was some time before Lieutenant Jim Weston14 and the
men of 9 Platoon realised that they had lost contact with
Company Headquarters, for during the first half hour of
darkness the platoon had been kept fairly busy. One casualty
had been caused by fire from our own tanks, then a burst
of machine-gun fire and a challenge from the front halted
their advance. A well-aimed grenade dealt with the opposition and a section charging the spot found the enemy post
deserted. It was pitch dark, and every few minutes the
platoon halted and sent out runners to try to link up with
the rest of the company. Each time they returned beaten
by the black night. However, there was a constant crackle
of rifle fire all round, so they continued to advance steadily,
confident that the rest of the force was not far away. After
crossing the road leading to the prison a halt was called and
a patrol sent out to try to locate the advancing force and
the prison. They reported that neither the enemy nor our
own troops were to be found.

A conference was held and the platoon NCOs were
anxious that, despite having lost contact, dawn would find
them in a position to materially assist our forces in the attack
which would no doubt develop at first light. As they were
now so far forward, it was decided to keep going in the hope
that the platoon would be able to create a diversion in the
enemy’s rear.

Carefully probing their way forward the platoon kept
going until 4 a.m., when the hills were reached. All was
now silent. Dawn came and still there was no firing from
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the direction of the prison. Slowly the realisation came that
they were alone in enemy territory. The attack had been
called off.

Now only faith and fieldcraft could get them back to our
own lines undiscovered. The platoon was prepared to fight,
but the objective was a bit big for so small a force. Moving
circumspectly, the men wormed their way further into the
re-entrant, got well under cover, posted sentries and waited
for darkness.

Weston made a reconnaissance, satisfied himself that there
were no enemy in the immediate vicinity and returned to
the platoon, confident that if they kept quiet they had every
chance of remaining unmolested. Sergeant Greig,15 going
in the opposite direction, found two paratroops who had
been injured while landing in the rough country. They
were disarmed and their wounds dressed. The platoon
shared its water with them, while they in return shared the
food they had; the New Zealanders had their emergency
rations only. Both the Germans were ardent young Nazis
and spoke English. Hess’s descent into Scotland was news
that had them hard put to supply a satisfactory explanation.

While this argument was in progress, the platoon commander and the sergeant were busy with binoculars plotting
the enemy positions visible from the southern slopes and
working out a route back. There appeared to be a post on
‘patchwork hill’, some 2000 yards away, watching the area
in which the platoon was hidden, and in the village below
there was considerable movement. Heavy firing was coming
from the direction of Karatsos, artillery fire and much
mortaring indicating an intense engagement there.

On the mountains behind, Greek snipers seemed to be
annoying the enemy, while from the left there was light rifle
and machine-gun fire all day. Enemy planes were active as
usual and about midday a large force of troop-carriers parachuted supplies into the enemy area. The platoon observers
were having a grandstand view. All went well till 5 p.m.
The men had rested and slept, and though there was little
to eat, all felt fit for the night move ahead.

Suddenly machine-gun fire from a ridge higher up the
valley shattered the silence. Crawling up to investigate, the
platoon saw that a duel between two parties of troops was
in progress. It was hard to decide who was who, for some of
the Greek forces wore a uniform similar in colour to that of
the Germans, so the platoon held its fire. Then, as the party
being pursued up the ridge came into view, they were seen
to be wearing khaki. No. 9 Platoon immediately went into
action against the other party. The result was devastating.
The platoon position was immediately pasted by the party
they were trying to help. A heavy machine-gun was posted
well above the area in which No. 9 Platoon was hiding and
its first burst caused one casualty in the platoon and sent
the rest to cover. The position was now untenable; cursing
their luck, the men sought a more healthy spot. As the
platoon moved the machine-gunner kept up his harassing
fire, and at the same time the German party which had first
been engaged also became interested. They sent out a scout
to investigate. He was shot as the withdrawal began.

One section, under Lance-Corporal ‘Buzz’ Nathan, got
into position on the high ground to cover the movement
of the rest. No sooner had they set up than they were found
by the ‘friendly’ force, whom it is now supposed were
Greeks, and raked with machine-gun fire. Nathan was killed
and several of his section wounded. The enemy, too, now
joined in, but the rest of the platoon ran the gauntlet of
fire without mishap.

Germans now began to appear from all quarters and a
patrol was seen racing from the village on ‘patchwork hill’.
One of the Bren-gunners dealt with this new menace while
Lieutenant Weston gave orders for the other two sections,
under Sergeant Greig, to withdraw by what seemed to be
a safer route. They were told to keep going and the Bren-gunner was sent with them. Weston now set about getting
Nathan’s section off the ridge. The supposed Greek machine-gun was still firing. One of the unwounded men in the
section could be seen assisting others down towards a ditch
towards where Weston had found cover. All seemed to be
going well when suddenly two enemy riflemen appeared
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about fifteen yards away. Weston ducked and rolled into
cover, followed by their bullets. Both missed.

It was now almost dark and the rest of the platoon seemed
to have got clear. The platoon commander, lying doggo,
decided to risk staying in the vicinity so that he could return
to the wounded when things grew quieter. The enemy were
by this time closing in, firing Very lights and calling to each
other as they searched the area; however, he was not discovered. By 9 p.m., after a series of stealthy advances, he
had gained the ridge, but the wounded had gone—it was
learned later that the enemy had picked them up and that
they were well treated. Their own treatment of the two
injured German paratroops no doubt had a bearing on this.

Weston decided to follow the platoon, now under
Sergeant Greig, who knew the route chosen earlier in the
day and should have been well on their way back to the
battalion. Weston found out afterwards, however, that the
sergeant, with six men, was captured while attempting to
cover the withdrawal of the platoon earlier in the evening.
The rest were forced to try and make it via ‘patchwork
hill’ They clashed several times en route with enemy posts,
losing a few men each time, and finally arrived back at the
battalion two days later, having circled round and come in
from the Canea flank.

Weston himself, though fatigued almost beyond endurance, reached the proximity of our own lines by 4 a.m. on
22 May. Not knowing the password, or even being sure
who was in possession, he decided to wait till dawn before
making an appearance. He fell asleep and it was broad
daylight before he woke. Gathering his equipment together,
he had hardly moved forward when he saw a paratrooper
duck for cover behind an olive tree just in front. Though
not daring to fire, he kept the German covered and brought
him out with his hands up. Keeping his prisoner close, he
approached Hawke’s Bay Company area and, calling out,
was relieved to get a reply in English.

The platoon’s survivors totalled eleven men, nine others
under Corporal Roy McLean16 coming in through the
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Australian lines two days later. Their sojourn in enemy
territory, though costly, had been costly for the Hun also.
The return of so many was a tribute to those they had
left behind, for the support they had given each other during
the difficult withdrawal had alone made possible their return
to the battalion. The platoon remained on the fighting
strength of the battalion for the rest of the campaign.

There was little sleep for the garrison of Crete on the
night of 20–21 May. On the first day of the battle the enemy
had landed, despite stout opposition, about 10,500 well-armed and well-equipped troops. The intense air blitz, plus
the close cover, had enabled his paratroops to organise and
consolidate in many key positions. It was physically
impossible for the defenders to patrol all areas under suspicion, and when night fell there were still minor engagements and much sniping taking place around Galatas.
Casualties on both sides had been heavy, and now with the
darkness defender and attacker alike became busy with plans
for a renewed offensive.

Lack of adequate communications hampered the actions
of commanders of defended areas, and as the battle wore on
this proved to be the most serious and embarrassing factor
in our organisation. The few phone lines valiantly maintained by detachments from Divisional Signals had been
cut early in the engagement, and though by nightfall most
links in the Galatas hook-up had been restored, all were
vulnerable to enemy interference and overhearing. Caution
was necessary. Movement of messengers was difficult.
Control and co-ordination suffered.

After the forlorn attempt made to exploit the unit’s
counter-attack role, the battalion’s lines were left dangerously thinly manned. The positions of the two absent
companies were held by a skeleton force from Battalion
Headquarters and from Hawke’s Bay Company, plus the
few Greeks who had remained with the unit, and a strong
and varied section made up from men formerly under
detention in the Field Punishment Centre linked up the
Hawke’s Bay and Taranaki sectors. Energetic patrolling
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over the whole battalion area now became a necessary precaution for infiltration by enemy elements would be a simple
matter once night fell.

Much administrative work had to be done. As soon as
it was dark the wounded, under the care of Captain Bill
Carswell,17 Regimental Medical Officer, and his team of
stretcher-bearers, were evacuated to an improvised dressing
station manned by survivors of 6 NZ Field Ambulance and
7 British General Hospital, and established in some caves
on the beach west of Canea. The capture of the whole
medical area early in the day had disrupted all normal
evacuation procedure, and the unit stretcher-bearers, who
had spent a busy day succouring the battle casualties, were
now forced to undertake the hazardous and difficult task of
moving each lying case out of the area. The unit’s only
remaining truck—a 15-cwt supplied by 2 Welch Battalion—was employed each night on this work.

Rations and ammunition, up to now supplied by the
DID (Detail Issue Depot) outside Canea, had to be collected. Though the fate of that town was unknown and
conditions along the route were bound to be dangerous,
the RSM, WO I Parker, and RQMS, WO II Colin
Baynes,18 made the journey and returned safely loaded with
supplies. This was the last normal issue made to the
battalion during the campaign. Before these many tasks
could be completed dawn had broken and the first dive-bombing attack on the battalion had begun. Camouflage
could no longer conceal the unit’s presence, for the enemy’s
ground-to-air communication was good and it was soon clear
that the Luftwaffe had the position pinpointed. While the
blitz lasted each section post waited alert and tense for the
ground attack which was expected with the dawn. It failed
to materialise and by 7 a.m. all was quiet once more. At
8 a.m. Wellington Company (less 9 Platoon) and Taranaki
Company returned and reoccupied their original areas, and
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as at this stage the enemy on the ground were giving little
trouble, rations were distributed to platoons and all men
made a good meal.

Between daylight and midday some 300 containers and a
few troops were observed dropping to the west of the
battalion area along the Canea road. By now the colour
code of these containers was known to us: green indicated
mortars and ammunition; red, machine guns, pistols and
ammunition; white, anti-tank weapons and ammunition;
yellow, medical stores. Selective stalking was now possible
and the possession of green containers was always keenly
contested.

In response to an order from 10 Brigade, a squadron of
Divisional Cavalry and Taranaki Company during the
morning successfully staged a counter-attack on enemy
elements just outside Galatas, and at 9 a.m. Taranaki
Company moved out from its original position to occupy a
more forward area astride the road prior to making a further
attack. The new objective was Cemetery Hill. This feature
dominated part of the battalion’s area, and from it heavy
mortar and machine-gun fire was causing casualties.
Hawke’s Bay Company’s positions especially were receiving
much unwelcome attention from that quarter.

The fighting at this stage was following no ordered
pattern, but there was plenty of scope for, and many
examples of, individual initiative. Some exciting one-man
battles were staged. One outstanding duel was that between
Corporal Bert Ellis19 of 14 Platoon Hawke’s Bay Company
and an enemy heavy mortar. The platoon position was on
a forward slope of a promontory which jutted out towards
the strongly occupied area on Cemetery Hill. With all the
section posts evidently clearly visible to the enemy on the
high ground, 14 Platoon was having a hot time. One mortar
in particular was causing a lot of worry, and around the
platoon headquarters’s slit trench there were thirteen bomb
craters. Deciding to try a desperate measure, Ellis crawled
out to a flank, taking with him a captured spandau and a
page 150
good supply of ammunition. He located the mortar and
took it on single-handed. The duel went on at least a dozen
rounds without apparent score on either side, but by drawing
the fire away from his platoon position Ellis undoubtedly
saved the lives of many of his comrades.

The first burst from his spandau drew the mortar fire on
to his area, but by the time the bomb had landed the
corporal had got away another burst and rolled downhill
into the cover of a small slit trench. Between each bomb
he went back to his gun, got in several seconds of solid
firing, then tumbled swiftly back into cover just ahead of
the next bomb. The end came when a splinter exploded
two home-made milk-tin bombs which Ellis had placed in
a handy position at the base of a nearby olive tree. The
olive, cut off at its foot, did a neat somersault into the
trench. It took four men to get the corporal free from its
enveloping branches, and shortly afterwards the platoon
withdrew to a less-exposed position.

After several delays Taranaki Company, supported by fire
from the battalion mortars and from Hawke’s Bay Company,
began its attack on Cemetery Hill. Three light tanks were
also expected to co-operate, but owing to communication
difficulties co-ordination could not be achieved and at
midday the company moved in without them. Going forward
as far as the foot of the hill, 18 Platoon was pinned by heavy
machine-gun fire. Nos. 16 and 17 Platoons went on against
stiff opposition to the cemetery itself but, after cleaning up
the enemy encountered en route, were forced to withdraw
owing to heavy mortaring. The enemy, however, was forced
off the feature and lost some 15 men, 5 mortars and 10 light
machine guns. Our casualties were 5 killed and 3 wounded.
That night and the following night patrols sent to the
cemetery found no signs of the enemy.

Sergeant Nigel Hunter,20 who was acting commander of
16 Platoon during this engagement, showed remarkable
coolness and courage. This popular NCO displayed in
battle the same sterling qualities he had shown on the
football field. During the withdrawal he returned to the

The first German prisoners at Servia being searched by Ptes
J. J. Doyle and N. R. Ford

page 151
cemetery and, undaunted by the heavy fire, carried in one
of our wounded, then went back to try to bring in another.
There was little cover along the route and a stone wall had
to be negotiated, but he made both journeys safely and was
later awarded a well merited MM.

Reforming after this attack, Taranaki Company took up
a position on the left of the Divisional Cavalry astride the
cemetery road from Galatas. Enemy dive-bombers singled
them out for special attention during the rest of the day and
a direct hit on Company Headquarters that afternoon caused
several casualties.

As the day drew on there was a distinct lull in the fighting.
‘Reckon we’ve got him beat’ was the general comment all
round, and this belief gained even more adherents when,
at 11 p.m., gunfire and boats in flames were reported out
to sea. Though the rumour that the Navy had intercepted
and destroyed part of the German invasion fleet was later
proved to be true, jubilation was premature. The Galatas
sector was for the time being quiet, but at Maleme a bitter
battle was in progress and the fate of the all-important
airfield hung in the balance. When on Thursday the 22nd
the enemy landed from the air a further 1800 fresh troops,
the scale began to swing definitely in his favour.

The 22nd May dawned quietly in the battalion’s positions.
The early morning blitz which all had now come to expect
did not eventuate. The few aircraft flying over the area
took no offensive action though some containers were
dropped to the south of Headquarters Company’s lines. In
the direction of Maleme, however, the air was thick with
planes and the sound of bombing was continuous.

About 11 a.m. a series of heavy explosions signalled the
fact that the enemy was now using against us the 3.7 howitzer
which he had captured on the 20th. Twelve fighters also
added to the general discomfort by systematically strafing
the whole of the battalion area. The unit’s casualties were
mounting but spirits were still high, and the regular shuttle
service of troop-carrying planes observed in the western sky
was for a time believed to be an attempt by the enemy to
evacuate his troops. All were keen to get another smack at
the Hun before he could get away.

To regain ground lost by the Greeks during the first day’s
fighting and to find out if later rumours of the paratroops’
withdrawal were correct, 19 Battalion on the afternoon of
the 22nd staged a two-company attack on an 800-yard front.
Wellington Company (Captain Pleasants) and Headquarters
Company (now commanded by the Quartermaster, Captain
Jack Danderson) began to move towards the high ground,
some 3000 yards south of the battalion area, across the valley
road towards the feature known as the Pyramids and the
Turkish Fort which was a prominent landmark in that area.

If the enemy was still in possession of the feature, the two
companies were to locate his positions, test their strength,
and inflict as much damage as possible before withdrawing
to the battalion area. Simultaneously with this attack 18
Battalion sent a platoon to Galaria. Both the 19th companies ran into opposition and, as usual, German aircraft
took a hand in the proceedings, making low-level attacks and
harassing the companies from the time they left these
positions. Wellington Company, in particular, encountered
strongly held machine-gun posts and in an unsuccessful
attempt to outflank them had four men killed, including
Private ‘Fat’ Simpson,21 whose fearless and aggressive work
during the past three days had earned him the admiration
of all his comrades. Three were wounded. At 5 p.m. the
company withdrew, having accomplished its mission and
accounted for some ten Germans.

On their way back Sergeant Bill Oliver22 of 8 Platoon had
some remarkable good fortune. Two days previously, when
the attack was at its height, he had lost his paybook (carrying
a substantial credit) plus a carefully hoarded packet of
cigarettes. Covering the same ground again, he regained
his prized possessions when diving for cover during an
aircraft attack.

No. 7 Platoon, too, were lucky, for during their absence
on this operation their position was heavily mortared by the
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enemy, who was attempting to silence the guns of F Troop,
sited about 100 yards in the rear.

Headquarters Company got within 200 yards of its
objective, destroyed three enemy mortars and several
machine guns, then, as it would have had little chance of
success had an attack been ventured on the strongly held
high ground without support, withdrew at 7 p.m. After
dark a patrol from that company returned and brought in
a considerable quantity of enemy stores which they had
located during the afternoon. Included in this booty was
an anti-tank gun of approximately 1-inch calibre.

Friday the 23rd began uneventfully, but by now the
effects of fatigue were making themselves felt and the area
was growing foul from unburied corpses. Rations were
scanty and water scarce, and though the troops were beginning to show signs of wear, the unit was still in good heart
and patrols went out willingly and full of offensive spirit.
The morning was quiet, but during the afternoon the
artillery troop had an exciting half hour. Enemy mortars
got on to the gun position and an unlucky shot set fire to a
dump of shells and charges. The blaze was spectacular and
drew a further rain of mortar bombs on the position while
the gunners were fighting to extinguish the flames and move
their equipment out of danger. The yeomen service rendered
by F Troop, both in support of the battalion and as
‘infantillery’ working alongside our patrols, won for the
gunners the enduring admiration of all ranks in the 19th.
Their No. 1 gun was only about 100 yards west of Battalion
Headquarters, and liaison and co-operation between the two
units was at all times excellent.

Battalion Headquarters, however, was no sheltered spot,
and Major Duigan, the battery commander, records that
once when offered hospitality there in the shape of a dish
of hot stew, he was very glad when the meal was finished
and he could leave. The CO, Major Blackburn, was at the
time coolly sniping the enemy with a captured machine gun,
the Germans retaliating vigorously with unpleasantly
accurate mortar fire. Our own 3-inch mortar replied and
luckily silenced the enemy with its first shot. This episode
page 154
was typical of the aggressiveness of the officers at Battalion
Headquarters, and any enemy parties they spotted were
engaged from their vantage point on the high ground. Their
efforts resulted in a certain amount of discomfort to our own
staff but there was much satisfaction in harrying the enemy
with his own weapons.

Fifth Brigade were withdrawn during the 23rd towards
Galatas from their position along the Platanias River, where
they had been subjected to ferocious air attack and stiff
opposition on the ground. During the day it was deemed
advisable to lessen the gap between that brigade’s area and
the Galatas sector, and strong patrols from 10 Brigade were
sent out to link up with them before the next stage of their
hazardous withdrawal began. Despite opposition from the
ground and air this was accomplished, and as a result the
enemy was still denied the routes to the east and south for
which he was making so bold a bid. A re-arrangement of
units during the day altered the general defence line and
Canea-Galatas-Pirgos became the main defended area. This
line was held by 4 Brigade and 19 Australian Infantry
Brigade, and 5 Brigade gradually withdrew behind Galatas.
The 19th Battalion remained in its original positions
throughout, and with other badly depleted New Zealand
units was responsible for the sector between the township
and the coast.

Saturday the 24th was marked by intense air activity, and
the battalion positions received their full share of the strafing
directed against the Galatas sector. It was clear that the
enemy would try to link up from the west with his forces in
the prison area and make every effort to dislodge the Galatas
garrison. As the day drew on pressure increased, and in
anticipation of enemy AFV action on the battalion front
a supply of improvised anti-tank mines was distributed to
companies. These were laid out in readiness but were not
required. It was hoped that the six sticks of gelignite which
each contained would have been effective against a lightly
armed tank, for it had been reported that armoured vehicles
were being landed.

Fighting patrols working in across the front throughout
the day took toll of isolated German parties as they ventured
close to the positions. However, resistance from the enemy
on the ground was increasing and he was now able to bring
fire to bear on many parts of the battalion’s area. There
were several heavy bombing attacks during daylight and the
unit was on the alert against an enemy infantry offensive
which was expected at any time.

The 2/7 Australian Battalion took up a position on the
left flank. On the night of 23–24 May 19 Battalion patrols
linked up with them. Enemy movements observed and
checked throughout the day indicated that he was still
building up his forces out in front, and at nightfall 15
Platoon Hawke’s Bay Company was sent to take up a position facing the prison on the right flank of the Divisional
Cavalry. The night passed without further offensive action
by either side.

On the 24th enemy ground forces began an advance and
gained some ground initially in a heavy attack against 18
Battalion, which held an elongated front-line position
forward of Galatas and up to the coast road. A plucky
counter-attack by the Auckland Battalion forced them back
again at the point of the bayonet, but by now the whole
of the line was being subjected to continuous fire. The
enemy mortars were reinforced by pack artillery, but despite
the increase in heavy weapons used against them our own
troops were still making effective reply.

But enemy reinforcements were now arriving by air
unhindered and in increasing numbers. Maleme airfield,
despite a hard-fought action by 22 Battalion and a counter-attack by 20 Battalion and the Maoris, was in German hands
and was being used already by the Luftwaffe. It was evident
that the days of the defenders of Crete were numbered.
Contact with the Retimo sector was lost. Force Headquarters
had been withdrawn from the Akrotiri Peninsula to Suda
Bay and it was obvious that the Galatas sector would be the
enemy’s next objective. He did not press home an attack
that night.

The 25th May was a bad day. The unit was shelled,
strafed, bombed and machine-gunned from daylight onwards. The already depleted companies suffered further
casualties, Taranaki in particular being severely mauled.
The full-scale attack had begun. No. 15 Platoon Hawke’s
Bay Company, which had covered the route several times
previously, were sent out once more at 3 p.m., together with
7 Platoon Wellington Company, to assist the Divisional
Cavalry whose position lay close to the enemy’s thrust line.

No. 7 Platoon (Lieutenant Ron Scales and Sergeant Dave
Rench) and 15 Platoon (Lieutenant John Carryer and
Sergeant Allan Kennedy23) moved out of the battalion area
at 3 p.m. to rendezvous at the Galatas church. Together
the two platoons took cover among the olive trees which
lined the sunken road close by, while the platoon commanders went off to report to Major John Russell,24 who
was commanding the Divisional Cavalry responsible for the
defence of this sector of the Galatas line. The men had just
settled down to rest when two smoke shells fell among them.
A pinkish-coloured cloud went up, and immediately eight
Stukas which had been patrolling overhead turned and
peeled off one by one to attack.

The air attack followed the now all too familiar pattern;
each plane dived in turn, roared down with guns blazing,
and released its bomb just as it flattened out. Both platoons
suffered, No. 7 having five and No. 15 three casualties.
Private Sullivan25 was killed outright and that stalwart
soldier, Private Ted Newman26 was severely wounded in the
thigh; he died later in enemy hands. His fortitude and
cheerfulness during this incident were a fine example to his
shaken comrades. The platoon commanders returned while
the wounded were being moved to the shelter of a stone wall
page 157
some hundred yards away, where they were left under the
care of Private Nicholls,27 a regimental stretcher-bearer with
the party.

The task which had been allotted to the small force was
to occupy a ridge (Pink Hill) extending towards the prison
on the right flank of the Divisional Cavalry’s positions. This
ridge dominated their flank and it was feared that the enemy
were about to move on to it. After a brief conference, it
was decided to approach the objective by different routes,
7 Platoon going through Galatas and 15 Platoon moving in
from the right flank of the Divisional Cavalry positions.

No. 15 Platoon ran into trouble immediately, surprising
an enemy patrol working close in to the squadron positions
on the right. This patrol was quickly dealt with by grenades
and small-arms fire and forced to withdraw, Corporal
Robertson28 and his section doing good work during the hot
few minutes while the encounter lasted. The platoon was
preparing to move on again when word was brought out
by runner that they were to withdraw back to the battalion.
This they did without further incident.

Meanwhile, 7 Platoon had reached the objective and,
dividing into halves, proceeded along each side of the ridge.
Their progress was followed by machine-gun fire from the
enemy in the valley towards the prison, but the houses lining
the high ground gave a certain amount of cover and the
parties went forward steadily. Those working along the
west slope—the party commanded by Sergeant Rench—came under mortar fire just as the sergeant, who with one
other man was some distance ahead of the rest, had reached
the last house. The enemy’s attack on Galatas had started
and Pink Hill was obviously one of his objectives.

Rench entered the house just as an enemy machine gun
opened up on the platoon’s line of advance. He found
several artillerymen sheltering from the fire, quite unaware
of what was happening. From the balcony, which gave a
good view along the ridge, he was unable to see any signs
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of enemy activity on the high ground, so he moved across
to the eastern side of the ridge and linked up with Lieutenant Scales, who with his party was awaiting the arrival
of the others. Sustained machine-gun fire was now being
directed against the Divisional Cavalry positions which lay
to the left rear of 7 Platoon, who were sheltering under the
cover of some agave plants on a terrace to the eastern side
of the toe of the ridge. Suddenly it was noticed that fire
was coming from somewhere overhead. On climbing up to
the next terrace, the platoon could see an enemy spandau
crew in action on the brow of the ridge. The platoon
immediately took up a defensive position.

Private Bert McKay stalked and disposed of the spandau
party with a grenade. It was now obvious that the enemy
attack was developing from the direction of the prison and
a sharp engagement between their forward elements and
7 Platoon took place. McKay, caught out in the open, was
wounded in the groin. Undeterred by the heavy fire,
Privates Merv Smylie29 and Jack Wildermouth30 went out
and carried him back to cover under the terrace. Smylie
then went out again and got in some good shooting with a
captured spandau. By this time a fierce duel was in progress
and the platoon was replying vigorously and effectively. The
artillery sergeant who had come from the house to join the
party was killed while doing a good job with a Bren gun.
Scales was himself wounded, but the enemy had suffered
heavily and there was a brief lull.

At this stage it was noticed that the Divisional Cavalry
had evacuated its forward posts, and as his party was entirely
out on its own and liable to be cut off, Scales decided to
withdraw also. The position was evacuated one by one,
Wildermouth and Smylie carrying out the wounded McKay
on a wooden door they had wrenched off the nearest house.
On the way back the remainder of Rench’s party, who had
been pinned by fire during the advance along the ridge, was
contacted. They, too, had had casualties, and the survivors
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under Sergeant Dave Horn31 now joined the rest of the
platoon.

Unable to locate Divisional Cavalry headquarters, which
had apparently moved during the time the engagement on
the ridge was in progress, 7 Platoon made its way back to
the battalion position. It came in through Taranaki Company’s lines and rejoined Wellington Company just as the
general withdrawal from Galatas began.

By 5 p.m. that evening the enemy had penetrated the
Galatas line and elements from our forward units began
retiring through 19 Battalion’s position. Taranaki Company
was hurriedly moved back to its old line on the battalion’s
right flank, and two platoons from Headquarters Company
were sent out to assist it to stave off a threatened enemy infiltration at that point. By 8.30 p.m. more of the forward troops
began coming back and despite falling darkness the enemy
air attacks continued. The situation was desperate, but at
Galatas a thrilling and savage counter-attack by two companies of 23 Battalion, the Bren carrier platoon of the 20th,
a party from the 18th and a few gunners, plus two light
tanks, recaptured the town, relieved the pressure and
allowed the retirement, which was finally ordered at 11 p.m.,
to take place unhindered.

Tenth Brigade having ceased to exist, 19 Battalion now
came under command of 5 Brigade, which was now in
command of the Galatas area. The position the unit had
held at Karatsos since the beginning of the attack was
evacuated. It was a pitch black night, and the men moved
out in single file approximately a mile to the south-east.
A halt was called and, with its right flank at the village of
Evthymi, the battalion took up a new line covering the coast
road to Canea. There was no opportunity for previous reconnaissance, but before dawn the whole unit was in the new
area. Company positions from the left flank were Taranaki,
Hawke’s Bay, then Headquarters Company, the last covering
a road cutting just in front of the forward positions;
Wellington Company was in reserve. To the north, towards
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the sea, were the Divisional Cavalry and 21 Battalion, very
weak in numbers but with A Company of 20 Battalion and
some sappers attached to form 21 Battalion Group.

All company positions were on forward slopes, in the open
and on rocky ground where a few olive trees gave sparse
cover. In the short time available before daylight little
digging could be done, and some sections were still entirely
out in the open when the first attacks began.

Casualties in the battalion on 26 May were heavy. At
7 a.m. the whole of the unit area came under heavy fire
from the ground while strafing from the air was almost
continuous. The enemy was trying to force a breach through
the road cutting and was throwing in everything he had to
obtain his objective. It was a bad morning. Viewing it in
retrospect, a member of the unit who afterwards saw service
in every theatre in which the Division was employed said:
‘It was my worst day in the whole war.’ Headquarters
Company had thirty men killed and wounded in about as
many minutes, and by 2 p.m. enemy patrols had pushed up
close enough to our forward platoons to use stick bombs
which they hurled from under cover of an embankment.
Nos. 5 and 6 Platoons, who had borne the brunt of the
attack, used their single remaining grenade effectively before
they were forced to retire approximately 150 yards. The
enemy quickly moved in to occupy the ground just vacated,
but a forward section from a Taranaki Company platoon
hotly engaged them and, assisted by several effective bombs
from our 3-inch mortar, forced the enemy to withdraw once
more.

Taking advantage of this diversion Lieutenant Keith
Cockerill32 and Corporal Bert Ellis did a quick reconnaissance. They had the unenviable experience of being
singled out by two low-flying Me110s and chased over the
ridge and back again. At 2.15 p.m., however, 14 Platoon
reoccupied the position. A platoon from 21 Battalion, supported by a light tank, eased the pressure on the 19th when
they moved on to a feature across the road and gave
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covering fire to our right flank. During the rest of the
afternoon the enemy made several attacks but failed to
penetrate further.

Our numbers were being steadily depleted. At 4.30 p.m.
Captain Danderson was severely wounded by a mortar bomb
and died some hours later; this mortar also caused nine other
casualties. Headquarters Company had now lost its second
commander, but at 4.45 p.m. under Lieutenant Weston it
pushed forward once more, relieved 14 Platoon, and
reoccupied the position from which 5 and 6 Platoons had
been forced to retire some three hours previously. While
this move was in progress an enemy aircraft discovered the
light tank which had taken up a covering position on the
right flank. It was attacked repeatedly and was last seen
disappearing down the road hotly pursued by an Me110.
Down the same road a little later roared an enemy motorcyclist. He rode straight into the unit area, and man and
machine almost disintegrated with the weight of small-arms
fire which met them.

The late evening was full of incident and the attackers
received many nasty shocks. On one occasion a donkey
observed among the olive trees below gave away an enemy
troop concentration, and a particularly good shot by the
3-inch mortar apparently caused chaos, judging by the
screams and shouting which followed the burst.

When darkness fell it was expected that the attack would
be renewed. But the enemy had no stomach for night work,
and at 11.30 p.m. the brigade withdrew to a position approximately two miles north-west of Suda Bay. Patrols from
Wellington Company went out and cleared the south flank
before the move began.

By the early hours of the 27th the new line was established. Nineteenth Australian Brigade held the area to the
north, with its right flank at Suda Bay about a mile west of
the township. Fifth Brigade was in position along the length
of a dusty, sunken road which rejoiced in the title of 42nd
Street. On the right of the brigade 21 Battalion Group
linked up with 2/7 Australian Battalion. The Maori
Battalion, then the 19th and lastly the 22nd, completed the
page 162

42nd Street positions, 27 May

line, which ended in the hills near the village of Tsikalaria.
The 23rd Battalion was in reserve. The exhausted 4 Brigade
had been withdrawn well back towards Stilos, where it was
hoped it would get sufficient time to recuperate before
taking the line again.

On reaching 42nd Street companies were moved out to
their areas, but were told that as there were troops in front
of them positions need not be dug other than those necessary
for protection against air strafing. Events proved that the
troops in front were a myth; however, the enemy was still
wary and gave the defenders of the new line a short respite.
The spell was welcome, and until daylight almost everyone
slept; then as there was water in the vicinity, the troops
enjoyed the luxuries of an unlimited drinking ration and a
good wash. In the early morning the unit reorganised,
ammunition was redistributed and, mixing together for the
first time since the battle had started, the men swapped
stories and experiences.

At 9.30 a.m. the Luftwaffe discovered the position and a
dive-bombing attack sent each man to cover. During this
attack a large ammunition dump out in front of the line
blew up with a roar which drowned even the bursting of
the bombs. The area was occupied by the enemy at the
time, and later some seventy to eighty dead were counted
close to the crater.33 A parachute landing was feared, and
while the defensive positions were being hurriedly manned
a company from 28 (Maori) Battalion was drawn up in
readiness to deal with this sudden menace.

During this period enemy ground forces managed to get
up close without being seen. A sudden burst of spandau
fire from some 300 yards out in front indicated the start of
the attack. This fire was also the signal for the Maori
company detailed for the counter-attack to start their
traditional war haka. Here was a task to their liking; led
by their company commander, waving a very dirty towel,
they moved through 19 Battalion’s area and unhesitatingly
crossed the sunken road just in front of Taranaki Company.
No. 13 Platoon Hawke’s Bay Company, over whose positions
they passed, held their fire for a moment then, inspired by
the Maoris’ example, joined in also. Soon the whole force in
the vicinity were fixing bayonets and following up.

This bayonet attack on the 27th will remain not only as
a highlight in the bitter and hard-fought campaign in Crete,
page 164
but as an outstanding example of the spirit of New Zealand
and Australian infantry. Tired after days of hard fighting,
weakened through lack of food, ill armed by comparison
with the enemy, our troops attacked spontaneously and
moved steadily and grimly onwards through heavy fire. The
paratroops fired frantically from their ditches, but here was
a test which left no doubt as to the qualities of the opposing
forces. The Hun, despite his vaunted superiority, was no
match for this miscellaneous group of New Zealanders and
Australians who confronted him with bayonets. There were
no prisoners taken; this was mortal combat. In front of the
determined advance the enemy broke and fled, leaving
behind him many dead and abandoning his arms and equipment as he went. He was driven back about half a mile
and lost probably 300 men, and though the left flank was
wide open he made no attempt to check the advance or to
regain the ground he had lost.

Casualties have been estimated at twenty to one in favour
of the attackers who, finally reforming, walked slowly back
to their positions collecting food, cigarettes, and equipment
abandoned by their opponents. The irony of finding
‘Players Weights’ in the enemy’s packs did not spoil the
victors’ enjoyment of their smoke. Cigarettes were short
and these had been our issue in Greece. The enemy had
obviously cashed in on the stores we had left there. The
food, too, was a godsend, and a store (abandoned by
Creforce) which previously lay well in front of our position
yielded further welcome items. The extra weapons and
ammunition also were sorely needed. Best of all, however,
was the exhilaration experienced by each weary soldier in
the whole jaded group who had taken part in, or witnessed,
the episode.

The afternoon was quiet, though with some misgivings
large parties of mules and men were seen crossing the hills
on the left flank. They were well out of range and opinion
was divided as to whether they were enemy or refugees.
All knew that should we be outflanked the route across the
island would be cut and further withdrawal made impossible.
At half past eight that night battalions were advised by
page 165
runner that the ‘withdrawal to Stylos would begin with
darkness and that order of march would be 19 Australian
Bde at 2200 hrs, then followed by HQs 5 Bde, 28 Bn, 22 Bn,
19 Bn, 21 Bn and lastly 23 Bn in that order.’

The move was not without its hazards and alarms, for
immediately the Australian brigade began to withdraw the
enemy followed up quickly. The last New Zealand battalions
had some difficulty in disengaging and the enemy speeded
them on their way with harassing fire of all descriptions.
The withdrawal was completed under cover given by two
companies of Maoris, plus a detachment of commando troops
which had arrived in Crete as reinforcements on the nights
of 24 and 26 May. Orders had by this time been issued
for the withdrawal of the whole of the Crete garrison to the
south coast.

The night march of 14 miles over the high range of hills
to Stilos further taxed the already tired troops, but by 3 a.m.
on the 28th the 5 Brigade units were disposed round the
village. Defence positions were taken up by each battalion
as it got in and all ranks fervently hoped for a few hours’
sleep. But the enemy was early off the mark, and two
officers of 23 Battalion who, before settling down, had
decided to reconnoitre the area, were startled to see a large
enemy party approaching up a wadi close to their unit’s position. The alarm was quickly given and there was a mad
scramble by both sides to gain the heights. Elements from
23, 21, and 19 Battalions were all quickly involved. As our
men reached the top of the ridge they were engaged by heavy
mortar fire and suffered a number of casualties.

From behind a stone wall which ran along the ridge,
riflemen picked off those of the enemy within range, but
he still pressed his attack and a section from 19 Battalion
was sent out to deal with a party which had crept up on
the left and was lobbing grenades over the wall. The section
arrived in time to despatch a German officer and approximately six men who had set up a machine gun, and the
situation was then well in hand.

At 9.40 a.m. sudden orders were received to break off the
battle; a greater threat to the brigade had developed and
page 166
Brigadier Hargest34 had decided to defy the enemy’s aircraft
and make a further move to the south during daylight. At
this stage the enemy was not pressing, but the steep, broken
country made it most difficult to get out our companies as
complete bodies and some disorganisation resulted. Fortunately the enemy had had enough and did not hinder the
withdrawal except for sniping from the heights.

Headquarters 5 Brigade cleared Stilos at 10 a.m. and at
eleven 19 Battalion followed on the first stage of a heart-breaking march along the steep, tortuous route which was
to end at the evacuation point on the Sfakia Beach. In
single file on each side of the road the unit moved out,
passing on the way a large number of Italian ex-prisoners
of war now going back jubilantly to rejoin the enemy.

Weary, footsore and always thirsty, the long, dusty columns
of troops trudged dully forward in the hot sun. Occasionally
an aircraft appeared and the columns quickly took cover,
but fortunately the Luftwaffe did not come over in strength.
After each alarm the march went on again. At Vrises water
bottles were filled from the deep wells of the village, but
there was no time to dawdle or to enjoy refreshments; in
any case, there was no food.

The wells along the mountain roadway were to prove the
greatest boon to the dog-tired troops; without water few
would have lasted the distance. The one pleasant memory
held by many who took part in that grim journey is of a
cool stream rippling beneath a bridge, where in the shade
a pause was made to bathe burning, blistered feet and to
wash the sweat from sunburned faces.

As the day wore on the only measure of the progress made
became the hourly ten-minute halts, but after each all too
short relief it was increasingly harder to get up and get going
again. The withdrawal went steadily on, until in midafternoon a short stop was made and the 5 Brigade units
were sorted out. Then the onward grind began once more.

The march now became a dogged fight against an overwhelming desire to sleep, with every man almost at the end
of his tether with fatigue. March casualties increased. The
sick and slightly wounded fell out first, then in ones
and twos went those who collapsed at last from sheer
exhaustion. Once beyond rousing, these men were reluctantly left by the roadside, but first their water bottles were
topped up from the precious stores of their comrades. Those
too far gone to look after themselves were propped up where
they could be seen by the drivers of the few battle-scarred
vehicles running a ferry service along the route. The one
Bren carrier still in operation played a prominent part in
picking up those who could go no further. Its crew were
Lieutenant Yorke Fleming, Lance-Corporal Jack Check35 and
Private ‘Aussie’ Aylett,36 all 19 Battalion men.

The tortuous road still wound upward in a seemingly
endless spiral, always steep, with always another crest
looming ahead a little higher than the last. The limits
of endurance had been plumbed and during the night
the column began to break up. Everybody’s pace was
different. Out in front the CO and second-in-command set
a pace which became more and more difficult for those
behind to maintain. Frequent halts now became necessary,
and with each one the length of the column increased, until
finally contact was lost with these two officers and the
battalion split up into two main groups. Still, the majority
of the troops kept steadily on—there had been no orders
about stopping. All through the night they trudged, up
and over the pass. Down now, through Sin Kares and still
onwards, until at dawn in the southern outlet of the Askifou
Plain, two groups, each of ninety-odd men, straggled into
4 Brigade lying-up area. The first to arrive was Battalion
Headquarters under the Adjutant, Lieutenant Blundell;
with them were some Headquarters Company men and the
majority of Taranaki Company. They were got off the road
page 168
and under cover, and shortly afterwards the other group
under Captain Pleasants arrived.

By superhuman efforts the bulk of the battalion had made
it. After three hours’ sleep—the dead sleep of exhaustion—the business of reorganising companies and stragglers began.
Captain Pleasants, the senior officer present, was now in
command, for of the CO and second-in-command there was
no news and the battalion did not catch up with them again
until it got back to Helwan. Brigadier Inglis took the 19th
back into 4 Brigade, and under brigade arrangements a
welcome distribution of one tin of M and V (meat and
vegetables) to each eight men was made. This, with a few
biscuits, was the first food issue the battalion had had for
several days.

An extract from a letter home written by one of the unit’s
officers gives a graphic description of the last stages of the
march over the mountains and reflects the resolute spirit of
the men:

Never was a haul so long or so heart-breaking. I think there
were at least ten places at every one of which I expected to be
at the summit only to see long weary miles of winding road
yet to be covered. It was hard to keep the fellows together and
some who just couldn’t keep up had at last to fall out and make
their own way in their own time. Fortunately few failed to do
so. I can remember the lad trudging behind me; a grand lad
and as brave as a lion as I had seen with my own eyes, feet
gone, utterly exhausted, he kept going though literally, and I
think quite unconsciously—whimpering with fatigue. One lad
I saw in hospital yesterday had made it with two bullets in his
leg. Jove, these fellows of ours have guts. Worn to a frazzle
with nothing but a bit of hard biscuit for food they stuck it
out, carried all their gear and were always soldiers.

The 29th was spent lying up and recovering. But the
men were ready to fight again if required. Though some
had made the final few miles literally on their hands and
knees, every one of them had clung to his weapons. The
mortar men, with their heavy loads, unable to keep up with
the rest of the unit, got the only active job before embarkation. Under the RSM, they remained with 18 Battalion and
gave support during the rearguard action when a gallant
page 169
stand was made by that unit and 23 Battalion, who held
off the enemy while the rest withdrew to the embarkation
beaches.

The field guns of C Troop ⅔ Regiment, Royal Australian Artillery, and three light tanks of the Hussars
continued to do valiant work until the last, and with 19
Australian Brigade manned a final rearguard line, through
which 4 NZ Brigade passed on its way to the Sfakia plateau.

The withdrawal arrangements were now almost complete
and 4 and 5 NZ Brigades lay up to await evacuation. Once
again the Royal Navy was to snatch them away from the
enemy. The spent units knew only too well the danger with
which the operation was attended, yet none doubted the
‘Silent Service’. The Navy would be here as it was in
Greece.

Further effective fighting was impossible, for the defenders
had exhausted their physical strength and their supplies. A
check made of Hawke’s Bay Company showed that, while
each man still had his weapons, 64 rounds was the total
ammunition muster. Before dispersing to sleep 4 Brigade
laid out its final defensive line, determined that, if necessary,
the Hun should have their last round.

Throughout the day the sorting out of units went on and
the weary men slept, confident that the night would see them
safely on the decks of a British destroyer. On the two
previous nights large batches of troops had been lifted
successfully from the beach below. Tonight (30–31 May)
it would be their turn. But while waiting for darkness the
battalion had its two final misfortunes, the first when the
commander of Hawke’s Bay Company, Captain ‘Brick’
Budd, was sent by Force Headquarters to a neighbouring
beach on a fruitless search for rations and was unable to
get back to the unit because he was held at the point of a
gun by a sentry keeping stragglers away from the beach.
The second happened when orders came to move to the
embarkation point and several of our troops could not be
found. These men had safely made the full distance with
the battalion, only to be left behind when within an ace of
evacuation. The explanation was learned later from Privates
page 170
Harry Toho37 and ‘Gandhi’ Adams38 of Headquarters
Company, who, after spending some months dodging the
enemy, were among those who finally got away from Crete
and rejoined the battalion at Helwan. Their sleep had been
so deep and their cover so good that shouts had failed to
waken them and searchers to find them. Fourteen men
from the 19th remained at large in Crete. Some, taken
off by submarine almost a year later, rejoined the battalion
in Syria.

On the night of 30–31 May the survivors of the battalion
under Captain Pleasants left Crete. The evacuation was
going to schedule, and in batches of fifty the troops were
ferried out to waiting destroyers, HMAS Nizam and HMS
Napier. As they moved down the steep goat track to the
beach, the GOC Creforce, Major-General Freyberg, stood at
a portal formed by two huge rocks, counting the survivors
of his own decimated division. The two campaigns of the
last few weeks had been costly. All units had suffered, some
of them much more severely than did the 19th, which
cleared Crete with a strength of 17 officers and 221 other
ranks. The Hun, however, would not forget his meeting
with New Zealand troops, and now that the first two rounds
had been fought, he too would need a spell to make good
his losses before the next battle took place.

The Nizam and Napier sailed at 3 a.m. on the 31st. To
each weary man crowded on the steel decks, these ships
epitomised strength and security. They were the tangible
symbols of the tradition and might of an Empire united in
arms. Soup, cigarettes, and the cheery naval ratings who
served them revived the tired troops, and one irrepressible
soul was seen to thumb his nose at the dim outline of the
island. We had been pushed out of Crete; yes—but so long
as the British Navy sailed the seas, confidence in the ultimate
outcome of the war remained unshaken. The destroyers
raced on through the calm, inky sea into darkness towards
the safety beyond.